Spice Up Your Life
by Moondancing Millie
Summary: Over the years, Father Dom had tried various methods of meditation to try and help him unwind after a hard day at work: knitting, herbal remedies, riveting romance novels... but now it was time to accept that only his favourite girl band could save him.


**A/N O.K, admittedly, this could be perceived one of two ways. It could be seen as hilariously funny, ha ha ha. Or ridiculously stupid. I don't know. I've proof-read it too many times. But you know. It was fun coming up with the concept.**

**This is my entry to Lolly's April Challenge: Smells Like Father Dominic. Therefore, my first Father Dom fic. Ever. Feel very honoured.**

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**Spice Up Your Life**

**A Father Dominic Fic**

After locking and bolting the door to his office, Father Dominic – principal of Junipero Serra Mission Academy – sank into his chair, sighing heavily. Another hard day at work had finally passed, and now he could relax in peace.

The day had been eventful, to say the least. First and foremost, at eight o'clock that morning he had caught David Ackerman – stepbrother of Susannah, and not usually a troublemaker – sneaking gerbils into the school, letting them stow away in his underpants. Apparently there was some kind of helium experiment that he desperately wished to conduct, yet nobody at home would permit him.

Dom was not in doubt as to why.

Secondly, during his morning patrol around the school, he had spied Scott Turner, eleventh grade, swapping Sister Catherine's migraine medication for laxatives. A hefty punishment had come his way, indeed.

And finally, Brad Ackerman, also of eleventh grade, was guilty of tacking a sign onto Sister Ernestine's back, without her knowledge, which read "I used to be a homosexual, you know". Needless to say she had been quite unhappy and had insisted on Bradley's exclusion once she had been informed.

And now, due to reliving his horrendous day as Principal, he could not relax at all. Over the years, Dom had tried various methods of meditation in an attempt to unwind after such trying days at work: knitting, herbal remedies, riveting romance novels… yet none of them had been successful. It was time to finally time to accept it.

He opened his email account – something that Susannah had so kindly set up for him during one of their weekly mediator-related meetings – and clicked on _Compose. _He typed in the email addresses carefully, and then wrote his message, the tip of his pink tongue poking out of his mouth in anticipation.

_**I need you here. I can't wait any longer. Be in my office in 10 minutes.**_

He felt ashamed of his secret pastime. Would people think differently of him once they knew? Would they no longer see a respected priest when they found out? He wrung his hands together nervously and searched for the unopened packet of cigarettes hidden in his drawer. He fondled them, agitatedly, watching the clock – he hadsaid _ten_ minutes, hadn't he?

And then he heard it: a knock at the door. He was on his feet within seconds, releasing the locks. The sight before him nearly took his breath away. He was beyond excited at what was about to happen in his near future.

"Dominic," Sister Ernestine whispered, propping herself up against the door frame.

"I knew you'd come," he replied, breathlessly. She smiled, showing all her yellowing, crooked teeth, before reaching behind her to show what she had brought with her.

The small boy stood before them, a cat in his arms. He grinned delightedly at Father Dominic, and the old man smiled kindly back – yet it was hard not to avert his eyes from the mass of orange fur sitting uncomfortably in the boy's arms. It was truly the most disgusting animal he had ever seen.

"Hello, Jack," Dom said, distractedly. Jack Slater pushed his way past into the office, dropping Spike onto the floor clumsily as he did so. The cat hissed in disdain, before rocking onto his backside and licking his private parts discerningly.

"Is it true, Sister Ernestine?" Jack demanded loudly, before he climbed onto Dominic's office chair and spun around madly. "Are you really… you know." He lowered his voice. "A whoopsie?"

Sister Ernestine harrumphed indignantly.

"Jack." Dom spoke sternly. "Kindly do not refer to any of my staff as 'whoopsies' in the future, please."

Jack shrugged and spun around again, gripping the arm-rests whilst his face was a freckled blur going around and around and around…

"Speaking of," Sister Ernestine said, finally allowing herself into Dominic's office once the silence on her part had partially restored her dignity. "Where is our sportsman? You did send an email to him too, didn't, Dominic?"

"Yes, Ernestine-" Dom was about to answer, before Brad Ackerman appeared in the doorway, dressed head-to-toe in his wrestling team uniform. Dom couldn't help noting that the colour gave him the odd appearance of a grape. It was unfortunate that his neck was so heavily patterned with veins.

"Sorry," Brad grunted. "I had to take care of some, er, business…" He blushed. Dominic decided not to let his imagination decide just what the "business" might be.

"It's alright, Bradley," he replied instead, and he gestured to a chair propped up in front of his desk. "Jack, come and sit on one of these chairs, please. I have important news to share with you all – a very special delivery came this morning." Sister Ernestine silently took a seat on the other side of Jack, as opposed to next to Brad, who she regarded with a very sour expression.

"The very special delivery," Dom continued, conversationally. "Was the very first prints of the logo. Personally, I think they are a masterpiece…" He tugged at the curtain that was hiding the easel supporting the prints, and gestured at the shapes and colours used. "You see, we have a microphone here, and photographs of all of us here… and I particularly like the text they used for our name…" He stood back, allowing everybody to read the font which clearly read:

**THE WANNABES**

_The Ultimate Spice Girls Tribute Band_

Sister Ernestine raised her hands abruptly in exaggerated applause, before wiping a tear from her eye. Father Dominic observed it proudly, whilst Jack gaped at it in awe. Brad, however, looked unhappy.

"What is the matter, Bradley?"

Brad raised his head, his lip jutting out in a sulky pout.

"I still say we should have been the Pussycats Dolls."

This ridiculous statement was ignored by all.

"Is everyone clear on their positions?" Father Dominic asked, and all except Spike nodded in understanding. Dom rolled his eyes at the dim-witted feline. "Oh, Spike, have you forgotten again? Alright then, we shall go over it _one more time_…" He looked to Sister Ernestine to begin.

"I am Posh Spice," she declared, sticking her chest out slightly and miraculously acquiring a British accent.

"I am Baby Spice," Jack squeaked in return.

"I am Sporty Spice," Brad added, plucking at his uniform. Father Dominic followed everyone with his eyes, nodding eagerly as they responded accordingly.

"You," he said afterwards, looking down at Spike condescendingly. "Are Ginger Spice. And I…" He cleared his throat. "I am Scary Spice." He reached behind his desk to produce a wig of hair that was approximately sixty centimetres squared of dark brown fuzz. He jammed it on his head triumphantly, before turning to face his group.

"Should we go over our proposed schedule?" he asked, uncertainly. He removed the giant logo from the easel and replaced it with a large list written in magic marker. "Tuesday's assembly – we shall perform '2 Become 1' to promote safe sex." This spurned a rather violent coughing fit from a mortified Brad. "And then we shall perform 'Wannabe' at next week's-"

Jack yawned.

"I don't really want to hear about our schedule," he moaned. "All I want to make sure of is that you don't burst spontaneously into 'Goodbye' during a funeral like you did the other day. Now _that _was embarrassing. Especially as it was during the cremation…"

Dom grumbled, trying to hide his flaming cheeks. It had been a particularly poignant service; it had been deemed in his subconscious that it was appropriate…

"Alright, alright." He changed the subject hastily. "I say that now we should sharpen our performance of 'Stop' – Brad, you were entirely off-key during our last rehearsal-"

"Was not."

"-and I have reassigned our vocal parts. Spike, you should take the top soprano part, as advised in my book, _Spice Up Your Life: A Guide to Your Spice Girls Tribute Band_, followed by Jack and Sister Ernestine on mezzo-soprano, and myself and Brad on Alto, as there are no male voices assigned in my manuscript."

Surprisingly.

"And our dance moves?" Sister Ernestine inserted. Father Dominic considered, before plucking his guide from his desk and flicking to the page entitled '_Spicy Dances Moves'. _After many "hmm"s and "aaah"s, he shut it again, and arranged his band into a straight line.

"Alright," he said. "So we begin with a shimmy to the right, shimmy to the left." The Wannabes followed suit. "And then a pelvic thrust." He studied the band sceptically. "No, no… more gusto, Jack! Backwards, forwards… careful there, Ernestine, don't want to poke anybody's eye out…" He scuttled down the line hurriedly. "And now a moonwalk – _perfect_, Brad! Back to the beginning, everyone!"

Father Dominic slipped the CD into his player and pressed play carefully. The song came blasting out into the room and he counted down. Everybody was poised, ready for action.

"5…6…7…8 – shimmy!"

He fell into line, straightening the wig that had slipped due to his excitement, and joined in once it came to the pelvic thrusts. He was the perfectly example, waggling his hips with delight as he sang along with the music, substituting with words that he had so very proudly penned himself.

_Stop right now, thank you very much_

_I need a mediator with a gentle touch_

_Watch out, the ghost has got a gun_

_But we'll never exorcise it because that's no fun…_

"Final chorus!" Dom cried out, as the Wannabes stood huffing and puffing. "Come on, everyone, we can do this! Spike, pull yourself together! Think of Geri! Think of Geri in her spectacular union-jack dress!"

He was so caught up in the music that he did not hear the door knob turn and the door swing open. He still had his eyes closed when Susannah – with Jesse hot on her heels – appeared before him, her mouth dropped in astonishment. Brad was first to stop dancing, turning – if possible – more beetroot than ever. Quickly after, Sister Ernestine and Jack came to an embarrassed halt too. Father Dominic, however, seemed oblivious. Eventually, Jack nudged him sharply in the ribs, and he froze, trying to look as innocent as possible.

But it was too late. Susannah had seen. And she had plenty of questions.

And she began with perhaps the most obvious one:

"What the **HELL **are you doing?"


End file.
